Dudley The Dark Lord
by Inky Pirate
Summary: Voldemort is tired of Harry getting away all the time. So he decides to enlist the help of Dudley. Together, who knows what they could accomplish? DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
1. Chapter 1: Voldemort's Pickle

**Dudley the Dark Lord**

**Disclaimer: You really think I **_**want**_** to own Voldemort or Dudley???**

**A/N: I noticed that there aren't many Dudley fics around here, so I've decided to give him full justice. And considering he's so fat, that might take some time. Bear with me……**

**Chapter 1: Voldemort's Pickle **

Voldemort was very frustrated! Harry Potter had escaped his clutches for the seventh frickin' time! How embarrassing and _utterly_ degrading. So Voldemort was moping in his armchair before the fire, sulkily splurging out of a carton of Cool-Whip, bald head glistening in the flickery light. Yep. He was feeling pretty sorry for himself.

Harry got the Sorcerer's Stone! HARRY got the prophecy! _HARRY _got Sirius Black!!! _**HARRY **_got a full head of hair!!!!!!!!!!!!

"And I got nothing! It's not fair!" Voldemort licked his spoon sadly. Well, actually, at least he had a body back so he could eat whipped cream, but that's beside the point.

So what were Harry's weaknesses? Dumbledore was dead. Big whoop! One less crazy cracker in the world. But Harry was the one he wanted! And he was out breathing free, searching and destroying his horcruxes. Hehe….Harry thought that one of them was Nagini when in fact, it was Voldemort's favourite toupee. Voldemort giggled, slightly cheered by the thought. What a pinch in the nose for the little toad!

……..Back upon the subject of murder, Voldemort needed a good plan this time. Not a joke like the last one had been. All the Death Eaters had laughed when he'd suggested just walking up to Harry in disguise and shooting him with one of those gun things. Voldemort hated being laughed at and scratched that plan immediately.

What now? How could he get close to Harry? What made that shrimp tick? Voldemort dolloped whipped cream onto his head. He always thought well when he sensed something relatively close to hair up there.

WHAT? _WHAAAT??_

"Aha!!"

The evil wizard had it! What he needed was a person who knew Harry Potter. Spent time with him, lived with him; someone who could tell him everything about the boy! But still, they had to have an equal hatred for his guts, so that they wouldn't mind when he ended up dying. That was the difficult part. Who? WHO???

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Ding dong!!!!_

Aunt Petunia peaked around the doorway to see a _handsome_ man standing on the front stoop, smiling sweetly. Yeah sure, he was lacking a bit of cartilage in the nose region and his eyes were, yes, a deep shade of red, but my, what a pleasantly shiny head he had!!

"What do you want?" Petunia said regally, appearing not to take interest in his fine, if not skeletal features.

"Why hello there," Voldemort mumbled, striving hard to appear charming. "May I speak to your son please?"

"What do you want with my Diddly Doodly Dingle Poo?"

"Erm…." stuttered Voldemort, taken aback by the atrocious nickname. He shuffled some note cards in his hands and read Dudley's (or was it Dingle Poo's?) carefully recorded background information.

"I'm a representative for UK's….er….Food Committee! Yes……and I'm here to deliver your son a special prize for…..errrr….eating more than anyone else. That's right…"

Petunia refrained from saying many things, such as, "There is no such thing as UK's Food Committee" or "You don't get prizes for being fat, ya schlub!" or even "Dudley's on a diet." She refrained from saying these things because her ears had only perceived one word.

"What kind of prize?"

"Oh um….a good prize, a very good prize, madam. But I can only legally present it to the winner, you see. So I can't let you know yet. But it's a very good prize, Mrs.—"

"It's Petunia," Petunia said with a prim smile. Handsome _and _he'd brought free money, or so she hoped. "Why don't you come in Mr.—"

"Call me Voldemort,"

Voldemort! What a fine strong name!

"Yes, well why don't you come on in, Mr. Volamort!" She twittered her eyelashes.

"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Petunia." Voldemort swept back his extremely long black cloak and entered Number 4, silently screaming in agony due to the pain of smiling for so long.

As they entered the living room, Petunia said, "Mr. Dursley isn't home right now."

"Ah…" Voldemort wondered at this odd bit of info he had just received.

"You can take his seat by the electric fireplace," she beamed. "And I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Th—thank you ki….ki—kindly," Voldemort gritted and Petunia disappeared into the kitchen, occasionally glancing slyly over her shoulder back at him.

Twiddling his fingers, Voldemort looked curiously about the living room, from the gilded light above to the furry blue carpeting below. It felt so nice on his bare toes! However, he scooted nervously away from a silver box sitting on a shelf above his head. It was singing at him!

_I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day_

_You got me in a spin but everything is "A" O.K!_

"Gah!" Voldemort shuddered and blew it up with his wand.

Aunt Petunia's cell phone was sitting on the chair arm and he prodded it nervously. The little screen lit up!

"GAH!!" Voldemort blew that up too, jumping nervously.

He accidentally sat on the remote and the enormous black box on the wall turned on, revealing Dudley's favourite cartoon channel.

"Teletubbies! Teletubbies! Eh oh!!" said a hideous purple monster through the window in the wall.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Voldemort screamed. "_Avada Kedavra_!!"

Dinky Winky or whatever he was called promptly blew up!

Voldemort decided not to touch anything. He sat stiffly, red buggy eyes roving about the room. Many pictures lined the mantle above the electorake fireplace, he noted, each sporting the doughy pink face of Dudley in some form. Harry Potter was not seen in any of them (except for the results of a swirly incident). Voldemort couldn't help but sniff. Didn't his aunt and uncle love him? Didn't they want to cherish his every moment forever and ever? Imagine living in a house with these people. Poor Harry Po—

"Bad Voldemort! Bad bad Voldemort!!!" Voldemort poked himself in the eye with his wand for sympathizing with his sworn enemy. The very idea!

"Here's your tea Mr. Violawort," Petunia trilled, entering the parlor with a steaming mug. Her eyes were fixed upon him alone, so she didn't notice the carnage of her living room. "I hope you like peppermint."

Voldemort pretended to sip, when really he was chewing into the plaster of the mug. Peppermint indeed!

"It's delicious…."

Petunia smiled a sickening smile and sat down, gazing at him. "Now about that prize Mr. Moldewort, couldn't you tell me just a teensy bit about it? I'm sure it won't ruin the surprise."

"Out of the question."

Petunia looked hurt and stuck out her lip, giving herself the appearance of a horse with a bee sting. "Not even a teeny tiny bitsy witsy clue?" She was getting closer and closer……

"I said no, woman," Voldemort stopped smiling.

….and closer and closer…..

"Are you sure, Mr. Sexymort?" So close, he could count the whiskers on her upper lip.

"Mummy, what are you doing??" said Dudley from the hallway.

"GAHDudders!" Petunia shrank back from the dark wizard and unpuckered her lips.

"Who the hell are you?" Dudley eyed Voldemort with disgust. "Where's your nose?"

Before Voldemort could blow up this walrus as well, Petunia butted in. "This man has something special for you, Dingle Poo. A prize for eating so well and…erm...healthily. Isn't that right, Voldemort?"

Voldemort was sizing Dudley up (which took quite the work). He certainly did look like a Harry-hater. He also looked like many other things, but they were too numerous to bring to mind.

"What are you looking at, ugly?" Dudley said haughtily. How ironic.

"You're perfect!" Voldemort proclaimed.

**Stay tuned for the next chapter my friends. Or don't, it's certainly your choice. Or is it??? Muahahahahaha!!**


	2. Chapter 2: Dudley Disappears

**Dudley the Dark Lord continued……..**

**A/N: As with many past works, I have little clue as to what will happen in the following chapter/s. Also, thanx for those nice reviews, chums. :)**

**Chapter 2: Dudley Disappears**

_MISSING_

_------------_

_Have you seen this person?_

_Dudley Dursley_

_Insert moronic high school photograph of Dudley here_

_Last seen at Number 4 Privet Drive accompanied by attractive tall man with no nose or hair whatsoever. If you have any clues considering the whereabouts of Dudley Dursley, call this number insert number that I don't know here. Current suspect believed to go by the name of Volamorse insert a pathetic attempt at a sketch of Voldemort, resembling a hairless hunk with an empty space where his nose should be._

_Please find my poor precious Dudders for me, please!! He was just about to get loaded! – Petunia Dursley_

Following Voldemort's exclamation of "You're perfect!" many things had happened.

Petunia burst into tears, so proud of her little man, more than ready to except cash or checks. And because her sobs were so loud and because her eyes were now clogged with runny mascara, it was but the work of the moment for Voldemort to utter "_Imperio_!" and walk smoothly out the door with Dudley. (Or relatively smoothly, considering Dudley was having complications fitting through the entranceway.)

Voldemort and his prize were already at the end of the street when a loud "What the hell??!!" issued from the house. But it wasn't because Petunia had noticed her son's absence. Oh no. She had found time to wipe out her eyes and was shocked to find her living room in shambles. It was only _after _she had replaced her cell phone, the television, and the radio and had some tea and vacuumed the upstairs and popped the roast in the oven and watered all the houseplants and baked a cake and had a manicure and visited the hair salon and watched Oprah and ate the cake (the whole thing, yes) and mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedge and pruned the roses and spied on her neighbor over the fence (who was having difficult times with her husband and boyfriend apparently) and took a shower that she _**finally**_ noticed that her house seemed rather empty. Ok, VERY empty. A very large, pink something was missing.

She had called the police, and though they were skeptical of her descriptions of the kidnapper, they complied into making a MISSING poster for her, complete with sketch and photographing. These, fortunately for Voldemort, didn't work in the slightest. Absolutely nobody would believe there was a man out there who could be missing hair and a nose and be hot at the same time. (Suckers, he thought later, smoothing his hands over his perfectly spherical head.)

And plus, nobody really wanted Dudley to be found anyway.

……………..

But it wasn't daisies and daffodils on Voldemort's end either. At the very moment Petunia was eating that delicious cake, he was sprawled on the curb some miles away, sobbing his shriveled black heart out, clutching what looked to be a fistful of hamster bedding.

"Sweepy!" he wailed. "My poor Sweepy's dead and it's **ALL **your fault!!" He glared seethingly ( ;) ) at Dudley, who was leaning casually against a light pole, chewing his nails.

"Who cares? It was just a stick, man."

"Just a stick….." Voldemort whimpered. "_Just _a stick???"

Yellowish tears gushed from his eyes, mingling with the dust-like matter he held in his hands.

You see, Voldemort doesn't have a car. He has no means of transportation except his feet and his very special broom. Well, he did have a very special broom, and its name was Sweepy, and if he hadn't tried to transport Dudley back to his headquarters on it, it might very well be here today. But as you can all probably guess, Dudley's immense weight transformed Sweepy into a heaping pile of about a million splinters. And now, what remnants had not been blown away by the wind, were being drenched by the ocular fluid of the Dark Lord.

"Are we gonna stand around all day, crying over a twig, or are you gonna take me to my prize?"

Voldemort hiccupped and shrugged, stroking the crumbs of his broom tenderly.

Dudley stuck out his bottom lip petulantly. "Why not?!"

"Buy me a pizza first. I need some comfort food."

How outrageous! First this guy drags him from the comfort of his home (and right when his mummy said she would be baking a cake later!), then he tells him to go spend money to reconcile breaking his mop!

"This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Dudley squealed. "You're _supposed_ to come to the door with a billion balloons and cameras and announce me a winner to the whole world and then a hot chick gives me a check for a thousand dollars. This is wrong and you should be fired."

"Well, the UK Food Communion isn't a normal company, tubby!" Voldemort snarled. "Now GO – BUY – ME – A – PIZZA – NOW!!"

"Uh uh!" Dudley said stubbornly.

"I'M WARNING YOU!!"

"Ew, your eyes are going all gross," Dudley was now whimpering as the Dark Lord's eyes lit up savagely. "You should really see a doctor about tha—AHHHHHHHHH!!"

Voldemort had drawn his wand, and at the sight of it, Dudley had started to shriek, which as you can assume, attracted the attention of all people traversing the curb.

"Be quiet! Shut up, boy!" Voldemort was getting a little nervous. He smiled at a horrified old granny as he tried unsuccessfully to shove his fist into Dudley's mouth. "Nothing to see here," he said to her. "He's just been a very bad bad little boy. OWCH! You bit me you little bast—!!!"

"It tasted disgusting anyway!!!" Dudley wailed, spitting out the offending appendage.

"Murder! Someone's being murdered!" The granny wailed.

"I'm going rip off your eyelids and make you watch me cut—"

"Keep that wand away from me, lamo-prize-giver!!"

"Someone call the police!"

"Call that an insult, Lard Ass?! I have some that would make your toes—"

"_Street fight! Street fight! Street fight_!"

Ok, things might be going a little out of hand, Voldemort thought. "_Silencio_," he whispered.

Dudley's mouth gaped vainly, but no shriek issued.

"Now I'm going to tell the lovely crowd here this was all a misunderstanding and then you're going to come quietly with me. Actually, you have no choice (insert devilish Voldemort giggles here). And then you're going to buy me a pizza and we're going to sort this out like civilized Dark Lords."

Dudley nodded fearfully, carefully, because the point of the evil man's wand was a hairsbreadth from his right eyeball.

"Good, obese child," Voldemort purred. He looked to the crowd and smiled winningly. "Nothing to see here, my good people. He's just been having another one of his special fits. But not to worry, I'm going to take him home and give him his pills right now."

Like a charm, the people in the crowd nodded simultaneously and went about their business. Yeah, a charm Voldemort was performing with the wand behind his back.

"Now, Dudley, I like anchovies, onions, green peppers, and lots of mozzarella on my pizza." (ew) "Oh yeah, and you owe somebody very important an apology." Voldemort waved the hamster bedding under Dudley's nose, which flared widely as it swirled into his nasal cavities.

"_(Insert spell I don't know for restoring voice here.)_"

"I-I'm sorry, Sweepy, for crushing you…."

Voldemort raised his eyebrowless eyebrows.

"…..w-with my immensely and tremendously and…and extremely large posterior."

And with a whimper and a loud gurgle from Voldemort's stomach, both headed off to Domino's like two very civilized Dark Lords, to have some pizza.

With maybe some breadsticks too.

**Ok, I don't think that chappie was as funny as before, but I'll try real hard on the next one I promise. :) Review review review!! Voldemort loves your reviews.**


	3. Chapter 3: Getting To the Point

**Dudley the Dark Lord continued……**

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay. It's been a month since my last update, I know. I just ended the school year and plus I've been putting lots of effort into getting a laugh or two out of this. Hope it pays off. ;) And thank you Ptolemy99 for getting me on track again. **

**Chapter 3: Getting To the Point (finally)**

Ah, Domino's! A place of integrity. A place of cheer, family, and fine food, served hot and fresh. Alluring in both sight and smell. An anorexic supermodel strutting by would have difficulty resisting the temptation!

Speaking of anorexic supermodels, Snape had just arrived, and was glaring bad-temperedly at the fat Muggles seated around him, hogging slice after mouth-watering slice. How dare they look so cheerful, when Snape was clearly in one of his, ah shall we say….snits.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink, sir?"

"Go to hell," Snape snapped at the waitress with the sickening white grin.

"Right away, sir."

Amid this turmoil of melted cheddar and sizzling sausages, Voldemort was supposedly waiting for him, supposedly ready to impart information that would lead to a supposed breakthrough! Voldemort had found a way to kill Harry Potter at last…..supposedly. Something about the atmosphere just didn't seem right.

Despite the ever present (ok, ever highly likely, but Snape tried not to think of that) chance of disgracing failure, the prospect was almost worth having to pay this greasy, diabetes-waiting-to-happen a visit. If it meant seeing Potter tucked away in a cozy coffin, then yes, a slice of MeatZZa mightn't go amiss either. Snape let his mouth curl upward into a smirk. Owch! He rubbed his lips. That had almost been a grin. Let's not get too excited. Just thinking the word MeatZZa had already taken enough self-respect.

But the potions master need not have worried over a stray smile for long. By the time he caught sight of his overlord, the thing he should have worried most about was the risk of his bottom jaw dropping right off and landing in a spill of Diet Pepsi.

Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of the 20th century, was seated at a corner booth, and everything about him was wrong!. First of all, he was actually eating a pizza. _Eating?_ _Pizza?_ Dark Lords ate camel tongues and fig smoothies, **not **pizza. The pizza on its own disgraced itself. It had anchovies on it. And mozzarella. Together!! Wroooong!! Also, the booth had a window box. Enough said. And what was that thing Voldemort was sitting next to? A bulldog…….in a jumper?

Snape was intelligent, but the words needed to purvey his feelings at that moment need not have been. Simply sounding like a dying mouse/whoopee cushion did the trick nicely. All imaginings of Harry Potter being scattered out of a copper urn into the four winds were dashed away.

"Ah, Severus, I'm glad you could get here so quickly." Voldemort had just noticed the arrival of his Death Eater. "Have a seat. I have some excellent news" He patted the bouncy red cushion next to him with a hand that had once been frightening and white—like a deadly spider—but which was now masked beneath treacherous tomato sauce.

"What an amorous place for a meeting," Snape uttered, lowering himself next to the Dark Lord.

"It's great, isn't it?" Voldemort crowed. "Such lovely pizza and they have a salad bar, Snape! A salad bar! The breadsticks are delicious. I dipped it in the ranch over my lettuce! Yum. Then I got some shredded cheese, olives—"

"Master, may I ask….."

"—pepperoni, and pickles to put on it. I sure missed eating as a wraith-thingy. Do you think they have desserts here, like fudge and—"

"Your Darkness, what is….."

"—strawberries with Cool-Whip? That would be fantastic, wouldn't it, Snape? I love Cool-Whip—"

"Voldemort!"

"Yes, what is it Severus?"

"First of all, olives are disgusting!" Snape couldn't resist saying. "Secondly, I would like to know why we're sitting in a pizza parlor when the entire wizarding race is after us. And THIRDLY…..and most importantly……you have cheese in your ear."

Voldemort, who already seemed rather insulted by the dissing of olives, blushed a deep shade of lime and winkled his finger inside his left ear.

"This is the gayest thing I've ever seen?" said the bulldog.

"And who the hell is this?" Snape bellowed.

Voldemort put off eating the cheese from his ear long enough to wrap his arm around Dudley Dursley's shoulders, grinning happily. "He's my good luck charm—and the answer to all our problems, aren't ya Dudley?"

Dudley shifted away from the clammy grasp. "You're rubbing your gayness on me!"

"Excuse me," Snape cut in, "In what way does Voldemort—the Dark Lord—brooding evil mastermind—appear merry and lively?"

"It means you guys are in love with each other. And saying _merry _and _lively _isn't helping your case," Dudley scoffed.

"Well of course I love him," Snape blurted. "As a servant should love his mentor. My faithfulness is unlimited." Wow, Snape could feel tears prickling in his eyes. He didn't know he could go that deep. Voldemort would be so proud!

Dudley burst out laughing and slurped some soda. Voldemort laughed too. "Don't be stupid, Severus," he snapped. "I only love Cool-Whip, idiot."

Snape's little heart crumbled sadly. Dudley and his master began whispering in each other's ears, giggling and pointing his way.

"Stop that! What are you laughing about?" Snape demanded.

They laughed even more loudly, eyeing him occasionally. "I'm not gay!" he cried, subconsciously patting his greasy hair.

They positively howled, tears streaming from their eyes. Voldemort beat his fist into his plate of salad, digging his elbow into Dudley's side.

"Well I'm not. Stop this foolishness at once!" Snape crossed his arms and pouted.

"Prove it!" Dudley snarled.

"If you haven't noticed, there is no such thing as a _gay _wizard. Don't you read? Not once in any book is there mention of a wizard infatuated with another wizard. Ask J.K. Rowling. She'll tell you so!"

"You know, that is kind of weird," Voldemort said thoughtfully, licking the ranch from his fist, "But I guess they are kid's books."

Dudley was pouting now. "For your information, I don't read! And what would I know about you freaks anyway? I'm not a wizard."

"_Tell me again_," Snape growled to his master, "How exactly is **he **the answer to all our problems?"

"I'm Harry Potter's cousin," Dudley said. "Voldemort here has employed me to kill him for you guys."

"WHAT!!" Snape jumped to his feet. "You'd trust a fat muggle to do it and not ME!?"

"You're forgetting, Snape," Voldemort hissed. "You had ample opportunity to kill him last year, and what did you do? Made him pee his pants—and THAT'S IT—you let him get away, you oaf! Now he's after my toupee! You've just reminded me that I should be killing you at the moment, but not before we try out my good luck charm and see if he can't fix what you've done wrong. NOW SIT DOWN AND LISTEN TO DINGLE-POO WHEN HE'S SPEAKING!!"

"Okay, okay," Snape sniffed. "No sense in losing control. I totally and completely trust your judgment, Master (though it has led to death and imprisonment for all of us….except you). Fire away, Dingle-poo." He sat, trembling. He was never going to Domino's again—ever."

"I know all of Harry's weaknesses," Dudley said proudly. "I know the best way to get rid of him. And Voldemort says my domestic muggle schemes will be what Harry least expects. At least….I think that was a compliment."

"Prove it," was Snape's turn to say. "Give me one of Potter's weaknesses."

Voldemort leaned toward Dudley eagerly, a mad glint in his eyes. "Yes, please tell do!" he drooled.

"I know for a fact," Dudley paused to build the suspension, "that he………ADORES PAULA ABDUL!!!"

gasp

"Oh god," Snape croaked.

"It's his darkest secret."

"Not her," Voldemort groaned.

"He has a poster of her on the inside of his closet door."

"…..the teeth…."

"…..the hair….."

Snape's lips curled maliciously. "Only Potter would fall for a tart like her."

"You're a star, Dudley!" Voldemort said avidly.

"Duh," Dudley murmured.

"But how will Abdul help bring about his downfall," Snape mused.

"Well, I'll let the two of you think that up," Voldemort said, gulping down the rest of his pizza, standing up.

"What are you talking about," Snape said suspiciously.

"You, Severus, are going to be Dudley's assistant."

"WHAT!!!!" Dudley and Snape screamed together.

"Yes, Dudley will have a wizard to help him in the magic world, and Snape will have a muggle who can help him back into my favor…..maybe. You did screw up pretty badly."

Snape eyed Dudley murderously, seething inside.

"What you looking at? I didn't plan on this either!" Dudley snapped bad-temperedly.

"Have fun you two," Voldemort grinned. "I want daily reports on your progress. When the plan is complete then we'll go in and destroy him together. How does that sound?"

"Perfect, as always, your evilness," Snape said dully.

"Whatever," Dudley mumbled.

"We'll make a Dark Lord out of you yet!" Voldemort was practically singing with joy. He swept back his long cloak and left the shop.

"This sucks!" growled Dudley.

"You're telling me? This is the worst day of my life. First I'm stuck in…..this place, and now I have a seventeen year old muggle as my new mentor. Where's a cyanide pill when you need one?"

Dudley suddenly stood up and bolted rather quickly toward the exit. "He's left you the bill as well!" he shouted over his shoulder.

When no one was around, Snape banged his head over and over against the window box and began to cry.

**Ta da!!!! I hoped you liked that. :) I sure enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for the next chapters. They're about to get rather interesting. Paula Abdul is coming! Beware!!!**


	4. Chapter 4: Idolitis

**Dudley the Dark Lord continued………..**

**A/N: I'm gonna close my eyes and type. Let's see what happens. Muahahaha!!**

**Chapter 4: Idolitis**

"Kill me, I say! It'll be easy! No, don't walk away from me like that! Pick up the knife; give it a little thrust…..like this…..and my heart will be impaled. Go on, please do it!!"

Voldemort was on his knees at Dudley's feet, offering him a shiny pointy knife, pleading to be killed. Why? Well, wouldn't you if you had been forced to watch two entire seasons of American Idol nonstop, without even getting to pee, and then when you finally finished that, Dudley tells you there's four more to go!

Snape wasn't saying anything. He had passed out in his bean bag, looking very frail indeed.

"Nope, you said we could kill Harry Potter together," Dudley sneered. "And besides, you can't die coz of your horcruxes." (Don't ask how he knows this)

Just to make sure, Voldemort stabbed himself in the heart. Sadly, it didn't work.

"Alright, you've made your point," he sighed, wrenching the knife from his chest and chucking it out the window.

Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been making annoying googly faces outside the window, unfortunately, had no horcruxes.

"But if I hear just one more Whitney Houston, something's blowing up," he added. "Just why do we have to watch all that crap anyway? I told you that you and Snape could work it out just fine without me."

"Get real, ugly, that was five months ago," Dudley grumbled. "It didn't work out! We finally came up with Plan A once I blackmailed Snape into lifting my Harelip Curse."

"Plan A?"

"Yup."

"Honestly, I really think it would be better if you just…..surprised me," the dark lord said. "Me watching Paula Abdul be polite for hours on end is not really helping your cause at all. I get this……awful fluffy feeling inside." He shuddered, convulsively rubbing his waxy skull.

"We have to study her personality and mannerisms, otherwise Harry Potter won't be convinced!" When Dudley was passionate about something, he was surprisingly smart.

"And what happens when we are done _studying _her?" Voldemort was trembling at the answer.

"Snape dresses up as Paula Abdul and seduces Harry, ensnaring him within his…..er….her….er…..his sexy charm!" Dudley hooted.

"Hmmm, and you've discussed these features of Plan A with Severus, have you?" Voldemort asked, although inwardly feeling tremendous relief.

"Ah, he'll find out sooner or later."

"This is going to work!" Voldemort cried, kissing Dudley. Feeling the cold clammy lips, Dudley looked around for the knife so he could kill himself, but it was still in the garden, sticking out of Bellatrix.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Next Day_

All six seasons of American Idol had been watched, and Snape was even paler still; as pale as a marshmallow. He was trembling in the middle of the living room, and Voldemort and Dudley were seated behind a table, watching him closely. He had just emerged from the bathroom, dressed in….well, a dress. A black one with sequins and matching shoes. A wig was perched precariously atop his black, straggly, but at least real hair.

"He really _is _as pale as a marshmallow isn't he?" Voldemort muttered to Dudley. "Abdul has a much manlier tan."

"Right." Dudley got up and sprayed Snape with some cheap Tan-In-A-Can.

"Gah! My eyes!" Snape rubbed furiously at his now "mahogany" eyeballs with his now "mahogany" fist.

"Shut it, Paul," snickered Dudley. "This is for the greater good, you know. Now, show me your stuff, girl."

Sighing, Snape began tip-toeing quaintly around the room on his high heels, one hand held to his face, giving himself an innocent, surprised look. "Hello Harry, it's me, Paula Abdul, the sympathetic, compassionate, kind, and totally hot judge from American Idol. I've wanted to meet you for ever so long!" he said shrilly. Snape puckered his face into what can only be assumed was a smile, dazzling them with his yellowish grey teeth.

"Oh my god," Dudley croaked. "I think I'm gonna barf!"

"Ok, I was wrong. This isn't going to work," Voldemort said, trying hard to hold down his own lunch. "You do have a Plan B don't you, Dudley?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Plan B_

Harry Potter exited the tent and looked out over the dark forest of who-knew-where, brandishing his wand, ready to stand guard, valiantly keeping his friends from harm while they slept.

"Coz I am just _**so**_ sweet," he sighed, hardly containing his affection for himself.

They were somewhere in Britain, looking for Horcruxes. Harry had forgotten why though. Heroes just had so much on their minds when they were being heroic. He sat down in the snow, singing softly to himself.

_Straight up now tell me_

_Do you really want to love me forever oh oh oh_

_Or am I caught in a hit and run_

"I sure am, Paula, my love," Harry said tragically.

For a couple minutes, Harry watched out for the bad guys, but then he got bored and trundled off into the forest to make a snowman. He rolled three large balls and was just searching the trees for a carrot when something distracted him.

A bright silver light appeared right ahead of him. A beautiful, shimmering silver doe was drifting closer. It tossed its head, beckoning him. It wanted him to come, to follow it.

But Harry didn't see the doe, he was to busy gazing awestruck at what had really distracted him.

Paula Abdul, standing in the middle of the forest! She dazzled her teeth at him, making the snow seem almost brown.

"Y-you……." he breathed.

A light breeze blew as she nodded.

Harry was subconsciously moving closer, ogling at her broad smile, her perfect lips, her strawberry hair, her sparkling eyes, her perfect nose, her black sequin dress with matching high heels, her slender arms, her……..

But wait! Could this be a trap? Or a trick to seduce him and ensnare him within her sexy charm?

He shrugged. That couldn't be. Paula Abdul was known to pop up in random forests during winter in Britain all the time! This was simply a coincidence.

"I've wanted to meet you for ever so long!" he drooled, reaching out to touch her perfect smooth skin.

A breeze blew again, and she nodded again.

"I'm you're biggest fan," he whispered.

Another breeze, another nod.

"Would you mind….singing me my favorite song, Sexy Thoughts?"

She just smiled at him sweetly, her eyes twinkling.

"We could sing together if you like."

Breeze. Nod.

"Okay, here we go." Harry began singing in an off-key tone. Paula trembled slightly.

"Aaaaaaaand if you think you're sexeeeeeeeeeee—!!" Near the end of his song, Harry was interrupted.

"Harry? Oh Harry, where are you?"

"Yeah mate, where are you? I thought you were valiantly keeping guard?"

"Have you wandered off again? Are you being naughty and playing hide and see—oh my!"

Hermione and Ron both stumbled onto the scene and gaped at Harry, then at Paula Abdul, then back at Harry. Hermione put her hands to her mouth in shock. Ron simply goggled and scratched his ear.

"What Is Going On Harry!?" Hermione finally squeaked. "We told you not to wander from the tent. We told you to behave or we would never let you be heroic again!"

"Hermione….Ron….I'd like you to meet….Paula Abdul," Harry said as though in a daze. He then gave Paula a broad smile, which, she of course, returned.

"Who?" Ron grunted.

"For goodness sakes, Ron, Paula Abdul is an American multi-platinum selling Grammy Award-winning singer, dancer, television personality, jewelry designer, and Emmy Award-winning choreographer, most famous as the very nice, encouraging judge on the highly rated television series American Idol."

"You and your Wikipedia," Ron mumbled.

"It was _Pop Has-Beens, A History_, for your information, so there!" Hermione snapped.

"Still, what's so dangerous about an American multi-platinum Grammy er…whatever?" Ron shrugged.

"We're gonna be friends," Harry cooed.

"Oh please," Hermione snorted. "Anyone with half a brain can see that she's a cardboard cutout set in the snow to obviously seduce Harry and entangle him with sexy charm."

"But she talked to me!"

"She did not! The breeze blew on her, making her appear to nod at you, you idiot!"

"She's the real thing, I swear. I understand her!" Harry wailed.

"_Look!_" Hermione stomped over to Paula and gave her a hard poke on the forehead. She promptly toppled over into the snow, making Harry squeal and fall down to caress her cardboard face.

"See! I knew it!" Hermione said triumphantly. "Snape was hiding behind her the whole time!"

And it was true. Severus Snape was crouching directly behind where "Paula" had just been standing, still with mahogany spots spackling his sallow features. "Um…hi!" he giggled weakly.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look and turned to Harry, who was now whispering into Paula's cardboard ear. "You understand, Harry? Snape! Snape was hiding behind her!"

Harry gave her a passing look. "Professor Snape? He's cool."

"No Harry, he's not. He killed Dumbledore, remember?"

"Whose Dumbledore?" Harry muttered, then went back to fondling Abdul in a very creepy fashion.

"You make me sick," Hermione sighed, "at least I still have—RON STOP TALKING TO HER!!"

"She is kinda pretty," he giggled. "Hi gorgeous!"

"Sorry to cut things short," Snape hissed in his oiliest voice, "But I'm afraid Potter has a date with the Dark Lord. Step aside, mudblood."

"Not you too, you overgrown cactus!" Hermione screeched. "I don't have time. Petrifucus Totalus!"

Snape became as stiff as a cardboard cutout of himself which some fans tend to put up in their bedrooms because they are creepy and obsessive.

"Come on, guys! We have to go find those Horcruxes and destroy Voldemort! Hup two! Hup two!" Fire shot from her wand, singeing their rear ends and causing them to shriek and run from her wild rage.

"Why can't you be more like Paula!" they both screamed as they retreated back towards the tent.

The sounds of banging and squealing faded into the distance. Snape stood still as stone, a venemous grimace plastered over his face. Close by, a heap of snow trembled and then exploded, revealing Dudley.

"_Potter has a date with the Dark Lord? _Honestly!" he scoffed. "I think Snape now has a date with some ass-whupping after this."

Before Snape could retort (which he couldn't anyway) there came the sound of panting and Harry had appeared again.

"I'll take THAT!" he snapped, and then he snatched up Paula's cutout body and sprinted back into the forest.

To be continued…….

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